


Baker's Dozen of Drabbles

by SwirliesDominate



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Multi, Open Relationship, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwirliesDominate/pseuds/SwirliesDominate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble collection of all the stories I don't feel like fleshing out just yet. A mix of ships, but they're all mentioned in the tags.<br/>Chapters vary in rating, chapters will label which chapter focuses on who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kataari/the Iron Bull

**Author's Note:**

> These won't really be in any sort of order, just as whatever I feel like. :P  
> I'll list the prompts for each drabble with the chapter. I just wanted to see more Male Adaar / Iron Bull heehee

Kataari was not a subtle Ben-Hassrath agent, nor was he was subtle Qunari in general. It was hard to be anything but jarring to the eye when you stood seven and a half feet tall and wore traditional Qunari battle paint, because _fuck their Maker_ if they thought they would make him wear that stuffy Ferelden shit for armor. “Andraste’s Herald!” They cried, expecting the Qunari to take that as some sort of honor. “The Inquisitor!” They added, some odd days later, making the poor sod stand on a pedestal and get cheered at when he much rather be anywhere else. Going to the Conclave had been an assignment, all hush-hush, and uncovering an attempted assassination had put a wrench into the secret hush-hush part. The Inquisition was a tottering mess when Cassandra offered him in, and Kataari wasn’t one to turn away a challenge that landed him with an army at his beck and call. What with the Ben-Hassrath not contacting him for the first few months, Kataari figured the Inquisition was better than throwing everything away. 

Most everyone was nervous of the big Qunari warrior, known more for being able to tear a Vent in half than his diplomacy skills (which were there, mind you). His silver tongue got him more trouble than it was worth, but the Qun didn’t know what else to do with the male. He wasn’t exactly conspicuous, but he had that damn tongue and could handle a fight. So what better to do than throw him into Ferelden and hope for the best? Surprisingly enough, it worked. 

Seeing old comrades wasn’t something Kataari was counting on, but when ‘the Iron Bull’ (as he was now known, what the fuck) started taking interest in the Inquisition, Kataari gave a sidelong glance to Cassandra, who snorted with tired disgust, and he couldn’t help but agree. They had been standing at the Storm’s Coast, soaked to the bone with seawater, and the Iron Bull looked none too surprised to see who this Inquisitor was. At least he had the decency to sound surprised, which was more than enough for most of the humans. 

Nevertheless, the Bull was hired, perhaps because Kataari longed for his original connection to the Ben-Hassrath, or maybe because he felt a bit of camaraderie for the big lug. Who would know? It was a stupid move, for sure, but Kataari was sure it would keep things lively. 

If there was one thing to know about Kataari, it was that his thoughts differed from his words spoken. Everyone liked the paint Qunari as savage, unwashed heathens, and Kataari wasn’t one to further the stereotype. He kept to his traditions -- which no one seemed to mind after they fell into bed -- but was also painfully careful of what was expected of him and methodically broke every single one of those cliches. So though he might sharpen his horns enough to kill or wear little more but vitaar and gold, the Qunari knew what to say to get what he wanted. 

It had been some time since he last had seen the Bull, so Kataari didn’t know what quite to expect. Dragon-hunting, an activity normally associated with a relaxing and pleasant pastime, was now filled with 100% too much Iron Bull arousal. It had been momentarily...amusing, perhaps, but that amusement quickly soured when the warrior continued to ignore his orders and get knocked out by the High Dragon. The Iron Bull had come to long enough to think he helped in slaying the High Dragon, and the celebration at the Herald’s Rest had been entertaining because of it.  
Kataari did not think he and the Iron Bull were close, but occasionally he would find himself flirting, simply because he was the only who wouldn’t take Kataari seriously. Flirting with Cassandra had quickly turned awkward, Kataari almost feeling bad for the woman when she confronted him. To avoid that sort of situation, Kataari poured all of his sexual frustration on the Iron Bull, knowing he would take it for what it was -- words with no promise. Kataari had an army to run, and when he felt the need he now had to turn to his hand for comfort, as being the Inquisitor had closed as many doors as it had opened. Sleeping with the Inquisitor was too big a deal anymore, and Kataari had enough issue dealing with his past flings. Not that others didn’t vye for his attentions -- Kataari was a strong, handsome Qunari male, and more than one person took notice of it at Skyhold. Interest was appreciated, but quietly smothered and denied, Kataari finding himself hesitating most with the young Tevinter mage Dorian. He knew, if he took his man to bed, he would not leave it any time soon. And so he gently turned away. 

But the Iron Bull was different. No strings, no complications, no future. So when the Iron Bull was found waiting in his chambers one night, Kataari did not chastise himself for lingering. Bull had stripped himself of clothing, looking cocky laid out on Kataari’s large bed. Kataari paused where he was at the top of the stairs; when an immediate explanation was not offered, the Qunari raised an eyebrow in question. “So, listen. I got the hints, I get what you’re saying. You want to ride the Bull.” The Iron Bull stood from the bed and walked closer to the Inquisitor, keeping contact with each step. “Can’t say I blame you.” Confidence oozed from his words, but Kataari was held still with surprise. 

“This is unlike you, Bull. You thought I was...interested?” Kataari teased, walking past the Bull to his desk, idly picking up a random piece of some report. 

“You aren’t?” Surprise? Why was the Bull surprised? Kataari frowned, his smile gone, and turned to Bull, sighing as he crossed his muscled arms. 

“I am not.” Kataari said, watching the Bull’s confusion morph into quiet embarrassment. Such a good look for the mighty warrior, Kataari thought idly. 

“Oh. Nice talk then, boss.” The Iron Bull glanced back towards Kataari’s bed, where his clothes lay in a pile, and moved to get dressed. So there was more business to it than originally thought.

“Hold a moment, Bull.” When the Iron Bull paused and glanced back, Kataari stepped closer. “I have heard of your particular kind of riding. I’ve no interest in this ‘I give you what you need’ nonsense. We are both Ben-Hassrath, and know very well what we need, moreso then these bas. So. I have an offer for you, Bull. You let me take what I want...and I let you take what you want. Or.” Kataari finally let his eyes rake over Bull’s body. “You can walk out of my chambers. Your choice.”

“With my clothes?” Bull smiled, looking like he could laugh. 

“I’m not an unreasonable person.” Kataari turned his gaze from Bull’s very distracting body to look at his pile of clothing. “But…”

“We have some ground rules to go over, then.” Bull pulled Kataari close, leading him back to bed, and they tumbled on top of the sheets.


	2. Marian Hawke/Fenris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G  
> focusing on the idea of Fenris coming home to finally meet his son  
> sorry if he seems ooc -- I always wondered how he would react to the idea of having a child

“Ser Fenris, ma’am!” One of the Inquisition scouts announced Fenris (unnecessary, really), fumbling out of the way when Fenris shoved himself into Marian’s office. It had been two years since Marian last saw her husband face-to-face, the two of them separated by their vastly different duties. Marian was busy as an Adviser to the Inquisitor, and Fenris had rushed to Tevinter when he heard the slaves were rebelling. While unable to see each other, they were able to exchange message, Marian ever grateful that Garrett had thought to help Fenris to read all those years ago. Letters were nice, something to hold when emotions finally bubbled up and spilled over and there was no one to comfort you. But seeing him again…

Marian carefully slid the army totem across the map, then paused and shifted the boy on her hip so he rested a bit more comfortably. “Long time no see.” She watched Fenris through her lashes, smirking when she saw his open-mouthed gape. 

“This is him?” Fenris asked quietly, staring at the child on her hip with a form of reverence. 

Marian gave a small nod and turned to Malcolm, cooing at the small boy. He was human, the small points of his ears and bright green eyes the only clue that he was a bit elven, too. With his father’s dark skin and his mother’s chubby cheeks, Malcolm Hawke was every bit a legacy child. And a stranger to Fenris, though he felt his heart pounding fast as the sight of the child, his child. “Malcolm, say hello to your Da.” 

Malcolm squirmed in his mother’s arm, but did not look away from Fenris, the boy as attentive as his father. “Hullo.” He muttered, glancing away nervously. 

Fenris put down his traveling bags and cautiously took a step forward, pleased when Malcolm looked back at him. “When you described him in the letters, I thought...well, he has grown since I last heard.”

“Kids have a bad habit of that. Every time I wrote down something new that happened, he’d already grown another inch or something.” Marian sighed, pulling Malcolm up into his arms. “He’s well acquainted with Garrett, so you have that to look forward to.”

“I think it would be impossible to avoid introducing your acidic sarcasm at one point or another.” Fenris said dryly, reaching out to cup Marian’s cheek. “But you. You have changed, as well.”

“Mm, our hair has grown out a bit, hasn’t it? Or is it the gray that bothers you?” Marian pressed her cheek into his hand, giggling when Malcolm stuck his hand in between them. 

“That was not what I meant. You have grown even more beautiful since I last saw you.” Fenris smiled and ran his hand down her neck, her shoulder, eventually grasping her free hand with his own. “It’s hardly fair.” 

“You have a lot to catch up on, then. But...Malcolm, first?” Marian asked softly. Fenris gave a small, hesitant nod, and held out his arms to hold the child. Maker, seeing the two of them finally meeting filled her eyes with tears. “He has your eyes.”

Fenris laughed a small, desperate laugh, the child barely even able to settle in his arms. “I am glad that is all. He has been...a good child?” 

Marian hesitated, and Fenris’ gaze snapped back to her, immediately alert. “There is something.” Marian said softly, wringing her now-free hands. “Garrett thought...that maybe he sensed….magic? It’s too young to tell.” 

Fenris felt like all the breath had been forced from his lungs. “A mage?” He was shocked and scared at the same time, not sure what this would mean for them as a family, for him as a father. “Surely…”

The way he was stammering, fighting for the right response, Marian could tell this was not news he had expected. Truth be told, it was not something she had expected either. “We won’t know until he’s older. Fenris, you knew there was a chance.” 

Careful protectiveness in Marian’s voice was the tipping point for Fenris. “I do not care if he is a mage. I only want him to be safe.” He watched Marian’s facial expressions and stepped closer when he saw a tear slide down her cheek. “You know this.” 

“Now I know.” Marian let out shaky sigh and leaned up to receive Fenris’ kiss. “These two years have been hard.” 

“I will do my best to remedy that.” Fenris softly promised, the gravel of his voice making Marian snort. Oh, Maker, how she missed that voice. “I have not been a good father thus far, have I? I have much to make up for.” 

“Yeah, well, you better get started.” Marian teased, kissing him but once more before allowing him the chance to bond with his newfound son.


	3. Garrett Hawke/ Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett and Anders meet Marian's child for the first time  
> Rated G, just some fluff

“He’s so adorable. I can’t believe it.” Anders stared down at Malcolm with an amazed look, as if his own words surprised him. The culmination of Marin and Fenris, here bundled up in his arms, and all Anders could think of was how cute the little boy was. Little black curls, dark skin, and the _grabbiest fingers_ Anders thought a child could have. Maybe two minutes in and Malcolm was already tugging on Anders’ dyed black locks. “No, nevermind.”

Garrett bent over Anders and took the child into his arms, grinning down at his husband. “The little guy too much for you to handle?” He teased, sitting down on a nearby barrel to look down at his nephew.

“Hardly. I’m just better with children when they need a bone mended or a cough soothed.” Anders watched Malcolm grab at Hawke’s beard, the large man seemingly not bothered at all by the tugging.

“Maker, don’t say that around Marian. She’ll have enough trouble raising the kid alone; no need to go jinxing him too.”

“You say that like you won’t be traveling to Skyhold every other day.” Admittedly, the image of Hawke with the kid was cute. Malcolm even had a bit of Garrett in him -- those large, curious eyes, that colossal energy already building inside such a little body.

Hawke let Malcolm gnaw on his forefinger, glancing over at Anders with a raised eyebrow. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

“Absolutely not.” Anders said, though the pang of guilt from being _jealous of a newborn babe_ was immediate. “I only think that Marian will not need your help so much as you think. There will be plenty of people willing to assist her in the Inquisition.”

“Probably. Doesn’t mean I’m going to not spoil this little guy rotten anyway. Even if my jealous husband disapproves -- yes that’s right, I’m going to spoil youuuuu.” Hawke cooed down at Malcolm, pressing his lips to the boy’s soft cheek.

The door to the house opened, Marian trudging in with a bucket of milk. “Look at that; you managed to survive the three minutes I was gone. Garrett, be a good brother and heat this for me.” Hawke traded with Marian and went over to the stove to do as she requested. “Anders, did you get to hold him?”

“I did. Malcolm -- while very adorable, you have my congrats -- is horribly grabby.” Marian laughed at Anders’ observation, sitting beside him as she fed the boy.

“He’s just curious. It’s too bad he’ll not remember you as the pretty blonde you were.” Anders ran a self-conscious hand over his dark locks and sighed. Those were the good days, though everyone constantly reminded him what a mess he always looked.

“Have you heard back from that horrid elf you call husband?”

“I have, in fact. He told me to keep Malcolm from the likes of you. Hmm, it’s too bad he’s not here, isn’t it?” Marian cast her gaze downwards, and Anders smoothed a hand down her back.

“He’ll be home soon. And then he can growl at me in person.” 

Marian brightened at that idea and laughed, Malcolm whining when he was bounced from his mother’s breast. “There’s an idea. I always thought the two of you would beat me to the punch, though -- with kids. I mean, everything’s pretty calm by this point.”

“Wow, you just get right to it.” Anders groaned, ignoring the expectant look on Marian’s face. He had already seen that sort of expression too many times on Hawke’s. “We already have kids.”

“Maker’s breath. Anders, cats do not count.”

“Don’t let Ser Pounce-a-Lot hear such slander!”

“I’ve already had this talk with Anders, Marian. He’s set on keeping me all to himself.” Hawke said lightly, handing his sister a warm bottle of milk.

“Hmm? Well, it’s certainly your choice.” Marian shifted Malcolm, waiting until he moved towards the bottle before offering it to him. “Now what’s for lunch? I’m starving.”

\-----------

When Marian left for Skyhold, and the two of them were alone, Anders could think only of what Hawke had said. He is possessive, that much was true. And having a child would lead to complications that he didn’t even want to consider -- what if they had to run again? He was distracted from his thoughts only when Hawke came upstairs, weight causing the old floorboards to creak in protest “Nice that Marian came by.” He murmured, kissing Anders on the back of his neck as he passed.

“It was good to see her. Malcolm, too.” Anders agreed, concentrating once more on the shirt he was supposed to be mending.

“He’s a sweet kid. I only hope Fenris gets back to see him.” With a grunt Hawke kicked off his boots and laid back on the bed, hands resting on his stomach. They both had thoughts on the mind, it seemed. “Do you think we need to rotate out the druffalo tomorrow or the day after? The northern fields are looking a bit bare.”

“I’d say tomorrow. We don’t want to risk them stripping the field.” Anders paused in his sowing when he felt Hawke’s hand on his thigh. “Something else on your mind?”

“I forgot to get seeds at the market.” 

Anders sighed and set down the shirt. “Hawke! We needed those for this week’s new crop!”

“Would you be willing to go into market?” 

“I suppose. Think you can handle the druffalo by yourself?”

Hawke grinned and pinched Anders’ waist through the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll try not to get trampled.”

 

\-----------

Hawke stood at the doorway, staring down in confusion at the babe strapped to his husband’s chest. “So….this is….not those seeds….”

“I’m aware, Garrett.”

“Do I get an explanation or….?” Garrett stood back as Anders shouldered his way through the doorway into their house, the little girl sniffling with a hint of tears.

“Let me feed her first. Do we have any of that milk left over?” Anders finally found some in the icebox and warmed it in his hands with a bit of magic. Soon the girl was suckling, curled up in Garrett’s arms as Anders paced nervously. She was elven, judging by the slight point of her ears, with soft brown locks and brown eyes. Her clothing was good, but Hawke could tell it was still cheap. Thankfully for him, Anders decided now was a good time to explain.

“I went to get the seeds, but I thought I would visit the clinic while I was there. There was an elven woman there, so sick and...she passed away before I could help. I went to the Alienage to see if I could find the father or family or something.” Anders paused where he stood, one hand clasped over his mouth. Garrett swallowed and looked down at the child in his arms, her bright, intelligent eyes examining him already. “There was no one who would claim her.”

“So we take her in?” Garrett asked, breathless.

“What else would you have me do, Garrett? She had nowhere else to go.” Anders snapped, panic clear in his tense body.

“Love.” Garrett sighed and sat down on the nearby couch, motioning him over. Anders cautiously followed his husband, sitting down beside him with a shaky breath. “I am _delighted_.” He whispered, gently pulling Anders down for a kiss on the cheek. “I never thought you would let me have this chance...and yet here she is.”

“You’re not mad?” Anders rubbed his cheek. Seeing Hawke raise a single eyebrow in questioning, the man finally smiled, reassured about his actions. Rushed and panicked as they were, this could be something good for them. “I’ve worked with children before, so I know a bit about their needs and care, but there’s a lot I need filled in, Hawke.”

“I had two younger siblings I helped raise. I’ll help you with this, Anders. You’re not alone.” Garrett kissed his husband again, pleased when Anders tilted his head so their lips could meet. “Did you learn of her name?”

“The mother’s name was Katriel, I believe.” Anders blinked down at the little girl, now dozing, no doubt lulled to sleep by all the excitement of the day.

“Bethany Katriel Hawke has a good ring to it.” Hawke tried, cheeks burning when Anders gaped at him.

“Shouldn’t we name her something...elfy?”

“I’m not going to pretend to know elvhen culture. Are you? So instead of butchering it, let’s just...honor what was lost.” Garrett smiled down at his newfound daughter and took in a deep breath. This was going to be one hell of a journey.

 

 


End file.
